


moonlight, with you

by ultraviolence



Category: Fate/Apocrypha, Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, Fate/stay night - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arranged Marriage, Bedsharing, Fake Marriage, Fluff and Intrigue and Drama, Kissing, M/M, Mutual Pining, Romantic Tension, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-05-20 14:00:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14895909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultraviolence/pseuds/ultraviolence
Summary: "Karna smiled, oddly and suddenly, and it was as if the sun had come out of the clouds. It was all too brief. 'Well, thank the gods,' he said, 'I don’t actually like dancing either. I know that you liked archery more.''I do,' Arjuna said, puzzled by this turn of conversation. Karna really was a space oddity.'I wanted to dance with you, though,' Karna continued, almost nonchalantly, and this time, Arjuna really do felt his cheeks lightened. 'At least once.'"Arranged to be married to the adopted son of a known despot for political reasons, Arjuna resented it. But things were shaping up to bereally interestingwhen Arjuna began to take interest in the other prince--and with good reason. Little did he know, their fates are deeply intertwined. AU.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello this is me again bringing you another series of fluff!! ...since we had all that angst the last time around, I thought it might be good for a change of air. I promise there will be some intrigue later! I won't be able to update next week, I think, but I'll try to do it soonish.
> 
> Now, onwards! <3

The first impression that Arjuna got from Karna was that he was a space oddity.

Of course, at that time he wasn’t thinking in those exact term. Even if he was considered to be exceptional among his brothers (who was each exceptional in their own ways) and even among the children of the other royals, he was still a child. But still, the first time he saw Karna, he knew that there was something odd about him.

Perhaps outsiders recognised each others.

The first time he met Karna, he’d been chaperoned by his teacher and four bodyguards, and it was the same for the other prince. Arjuna’s two older brother had been married and engaged respectively, and now it was his turn to be betrothed, for the sake of the kingdom.

Arjuna doesn’t like him.

He’d known— _heard_ , from the whispers of maids and chatters of bodyguards—that King Duryodhan’s first and only son was adopted, that he was actually lowborn, that he was also interested in archery, even from such a young age. Arjuna had heard of his feats, too, and felt in Karna something of a growing rivalry, even if the other boy doesn’t quite know it yet.

And he was _odd_.

Unlike his father, or unlike Arjuna, he had a pale skin with an equally pale hair, and his eyes—blue and red, respectively—were mismatched, as if the gods couldn’t quite decide which colour they should give him. Dressed in red and gold, he looked more than appropriate. Moreover, he carried himself with a certain grace that even some of the naturally highborn children stumbles with, and Arjuna hated Karna even more for that. 

“This is Prince Karna—“ Arjuna’s teacher started, after what he deemed a suitable length of silence—for the boys to size and examine each other—bowing curtly with an equally dutiful smile. Arjuna knows what he had to do, but he didn’t smile, merely stared at the other, a challenge. “—first in line to the throne, heir to our neighbour’s kingdom. Please—“ he said, straining, glaring at Arjuna for his small act of defiance, “—dispense your courtesies, Your Royal Highness.”

Arjuna wanted to scoff, but managed to hold it in—not a small feat, for he was known for his bullheadedness, which so often stresses his father and attendants out—and, bowing slightly, without smiling, he did as he was told. “It was a pleasure to meet you. I am Arjuna,”

“Third in line to the throne, third son of King Pandu,” his teacher painstakingly added, and Arjuna suppressed a sigh. Must he always have to be so detailed about everything?

“Yes,” Arjuna said, irritated and wanted all of this to be over with, even if Karna hadn’t said anything yet. If he was actually mute, Arjuna thought, that was fine with him. “How are you, and all that.”

“Your Royal Highness—“ his teacher glared again at him, exasperated, but, oddly, Karna smiled—only a touch of it on his lips—and bowed slightly, as well.

“I am fine, thank you. How about you?” Karna said, and although it was interesting—especially to see how the light that falls from the window that opens to the garden was playing on his expression—Arjuna feigned disinterest. It was the first lesson that he learnt, and the one that truly matters. He can see that Karna falls into the same pattern.

“I am also fine,” Arjuna shrugs. He was about to ask him about archery, just to be sure, and besides, his teacher would approve—Arjuna had braced himself for boredom and a long, winding talk, it was also something that he’d learnt—but one of the bodyguards nudged his teacher on his shoulder and whispered something. Arjuna watched him exchange a look with Karna’s chaperone.

“Please excuse us, Your Royal Highnesses,” Karna’s teacher spoke first, his voice like tinkling water. A eunuch, Arjuna thought. “We will return in a moment. Please do not be alarmed.”

It was code for please, for heaven’s sake, continue talking, no matter how awkward it is, and Arjuna simply nodded. Karna did the same. They were left with the bodyguards, who respectfully kept some distance from them.

“Are you perhaps mad at me?” Karna, a couple of years older already, asked a question after quite a lengthy silence between them. 

“Mad?” Arjuna said, hating how his shrilly his voice is, crossing his arms over his chest. “How and why? I don’t even know you.”

The ghost of a smile touched Karna’s thin lips again. “Because we are to be married,” he explained, patiently, and for the first time, Arjuna felt a blush rising to his cheeks, “when we were older.”

“I don’t care,” Arjuna said, huffing, “if it were up to me, I wouldn’t want to go through with it, but I have to.”

A shadow crossed Karna’s face, so young, and yet, so old at the same time. “Why?” he asked, echoing Arjuna’s question earlier. “Is it because I’m not actually highborn?”

“No,” Arjuna said, haughtily, and—he thought, wittily—still with his arms crossed over his chest, “I have my own reasons. Why? Are you mad?”

A long silence followed, and Karna took the tea that had been prepared for him, and took a graceful sip, as their chaperones returned. Even then, Arjuna could sense his disappointment. “No,” he said, raising his gaze so it was level with Arjuna’s, “I’m not mad.”

And then the conversation devolves into archery and literature and the art and laws of modern warfare, but Karna’s answer—and his expression—haunted Arjuna.

* * *

Time passed, and they grow into adolescents—that awkward, stumbling phase between childhood and adulthood that even the children of royals had to go through—yet they never see each other again, except in glimpses. Most of it, Arjuna had to confess, was his own doing. Every time he saw or heard about Karna’s arrival or presence, he quickly made an excuse to leave the room or venue. This puzzled his elder brothers, who had both grown to love their spouses, even if their marriage was strictly political in nature.

But of course, Arjuna had _heard_ about Karna. His feats are known far and wide, and he is known to be unfailingly kind and exceedingly generous, and his people loved him as much as they despised his father. He sent Arjuna flowers every now and then—as was proper—and they exchange curt words in letters and phone calls, but Arjuna makes sure that they never actually see each other in person.

Still, that doesn’t change the fact that he was unbearably curious about him.

The dance tonight was supremely magnificent and magnificently boring, just another event in the long list of state events that Arjuna had to attend. He attended alone—in a manner of speaking, since a prince is never alone—since his elder brothers were otherwise occupied, and his younger twin brothers are too young to travel to such events without being chaperoned. He was on the balcony overlooking the ballroom, nursing a drink, grateful that people have finally left him alone—he was beginning to get tired of conversations regarding politics and all things superficial—when the room was suddenly frozen in time, and the herald announced that their host’s son, the illustrious Prince Karna, had arrived.

And illustrious he was, dressed in black and gold with red accents, a splash of shining dark in a room full of similarly-dressed people and social climbers.

That is how Arjuna ended in this situation: wandering the hallways of King Duryodhan’s palace, for the first time, losing his way because he was in a hurry. Karna had nearly spotted him. He knows that his attendants must not be pleased, and if he met anyone, they might suspect him of planning something insidious. Duryodhan’s ego—which reflected in his choice of opulence, again in deep contrast with his son—was as famous as his suspicious nature. Arjuna cursed himself under his breath for ending in this situation. The least he could do was to take a correct exit.

Something caught his attention.

State portraits was an everyday thing to him—he had one himself of him back home, hanging in the hallway with all the other past kings, queens, princes and princesses—but this one somehow draws him in. It was a portrait of Karna, in full regalia, once more in red and gold—his kingdom’s colours, making him look as pale as the image of the person that Arjuna saw earlier—and the artist had somehow managed to capture his likeness and multiplied it twofold, for he—or she—had managed to make him look a couple of years older, in a good way, yet what captures Arjuna’s attention the most was his expression. There was a distant, drawn-out look to his odd-coloured eyes, as if there was sadness lurking behind his eyes always, yet there was the ghost of a smile on his thin lips. 

It was a curious, enigmatic expression. Arjuna longed to know the man that this unknown artist had painted, and yet.

When he turned around, he nearly jumped at the surprise—and Arjuna wasn’t the type to be surprised easily—because Karna was there, at the end of the corridor, watching the portrait as much as Arjuna was observing it. An awkward silence descended between them afterwards, and it occurs to Arjuna that they had never been in the same room—well, just the two of them—together.

“Do you like it?” Karna breaks the silence, cocking his head slightly, watching Arjuna. “It’s new. The artist came from a distant land. She said that in her land, names are prayers, and portraits are even more sacred.”

“I— I don’t know,” Arjuna said, after a certain amount of silence, feeling the heat rising to his cheeks. “It’s good, I suppose. It captures your likeness.”

There was another pause, and Arjuna opened his mouth, about to say something else, something _proper,_ as his teacher would have said, but Karna cuts him off first. “I am glad to hear that,” Karna nodded, and then gestures in the general direction of where Arjuna had come from. “The dance was about to start. I was told that you went this way.”

_Are you lost_ , was the subtext, and Arjuna _hated_ it. He hated being vulnerable, especially being thought of as vulnerable, and more especially by Karna. For some reason, Arjuna felt annoyed at him, even if he’d done nothing but being polite. “I know the way,” he said, haughtily, raising his chin, “I was just taking a brief detour.”

Karna raised an eyebrow, the familiar ghost of a smile briefly touching his lips, but if he were sceptical of Arjuna’s claim, he didn’t show it. “My father’s palace can be quite confusing to outsiders, although your father and your eldest brother visited quite often,” Karna explained, patiently, “should we go back to the ballroom?”

“I don’t actually like dancing,” Arjuna blurted out, don’t know what gets into him and immediately regretted it as he said that, especially since their gazes met. He could see that puberty has treated Karna well—he still carries himself with the same grace that he saw when they first met as children—and he hated him more because of that. He was straining under the weight of _imperfections_ that threatened him daily, combined with the expectations of everyone around him despite being third in line, and yet, here is Karna, first in line, only a couple of years older, and carried himself with the kind of grace that Arjuna secretly envies. He wondered what would happen if he challenged him to archery or sparring in general. 

Karna smiled, oddly and suddenly, and it was as if the sun had come out of the clouds. It was all too brief. “Well, thank the gods,” he said, “I don’t actually like dancing either. I know that you liked archery more.”

“I do,” Arjuna said, puzzled by this turn of conversation. Karna really was a space oddity.

“I wanted to dance with you, though,” Karna continued, almost nonchalantly, and this time, Arjuna really do felt his cheeks lightened. “At least once,” he smiled again, an oddity in a palace that was too opulent for him, in a world that was too unkind. Arjuna doesn’t know what to say.

“I—“ Arjuna started, and stopped, not even meeting his gaze. “I have to go,” he simply said, 

“Go that way,” Karna replied, resigned, and Arjuna stole a look at his expression. He looked disappointed, again, but there was something more, something that hurts him more— _rejection_. “I hope we will see each other again, Arjuna.”

“Yes,” Arjuna said, his mind already on the exit, “I hope we will.”

* * *

Time passed and time passed and time passed, and it was time for their engagement, as they were young adults, now, and soon, Arjuna will follow down the path his elder brothers had taken and enter the mysterious world of marriage. It was announced in a huge party, and Arjuna wondered, wryly, how come people— _normal_ people—romanticised his kind of life. Mostly it was the press, of course, but the rest? Perhaps the privilege. They didn’t see him struggle with his place in the royal household and growing up, and they most certainly didn’t see him struggle with the decision that has been made for him ever since he was a child: who his spouse was going to be. As the years passed, Arjuna heard more and more things about Karna and he grew to resent him, silently and by himself, not because of his heroic feats and his giving heart or kind soul, but because he thought Karna must have had it easy, being the first and only son in his household, not to mention that he seemed to have eased himself into thinking that their marriage isn’t going to be _that_ terrible. Arjuna envied that. He envied the way Karna lived his life.

The engagement party was, as they will soon report in the media, online and off, superbly magnificent. Karna was practically beaming, dressed in a black suit with a matching red-and-gold tie while Arjuna was wearing a white suit with a matching blue-and-silver tie. They are the very opposite of each other, although Karna was kinder to their guests, and Arjuna was frostier, more distant. His mind was elsewhere, and there was something about the party that makes him feel uncomfortable. 

Halfway through the night, Arjuna excused himself for a walk outside in the gardens.

To his surprise, Karna asked him to walk with him. “I wanted to see your father’s garden,” he said, smiling as if they both had a secret together, “and besides, I need some fresh air.”

Arjuna, of course, couldn’t say no to his future husband. A silence followed as they made their way towards the garden—an _awkward_ silence, from Arjuna’s perspective, although Karna doesn’t seem to be in any way bothered—and there, under the moonlight, stood the labyrinth that Arjuna had known the inside and out, the labyrinth that he used to play in as a child, something that he once thought magical. Now, under the moonlight, with Karna, the labyrinth once more looked magical, and mad, as if it was something out of the storybooks and they were princes from those stories, not heirs to a chaotic world.

He moved there without thinking, and, to his surprise, Karna followed him, only touching his arm with the slightest movement to indicate that he was following him. 

The moonlight casts odd shadows on the hedges that made up the labyrinth, but Arjuna knows his way and was sure-footed. He stole a glance at Karna, turned away when he realised that Karna was doing the same, and blushed lightly. What are they doing? Probably they should be holding hands. But instead, they walked side-by-side, arms touching but not holding, the silence holding a conspiracy with the moonlight, turning the entire experience into something magical, something otherworldly, instead of merely awkward. Karna finally breaks the silence, as he always did.

“How do you feel?” he asked, his pale hair shining under the moonlight like an angel from the stories that his priest had told him when he was a child. Arjuna quickly looked away, for there was something painful in his chest when he looked at him. “About our marriage, I mean,” he touched Arjuna’s arm lightly, “I know I asked you this all those years ago, and if you are mad at me, I understand,” he said. He looked as if he was about to say something more, but didn’t.

“What do you mean?” Arjuna said, in return. He didn’t mean to get so defensive, and he quickly regretted it, but the damage had already been done. Karna’s expression shifted. “It is my duty to marry you, Karna. You know our countries will be stronger together if we were married. That,” he told him, raising his chin, “is what we have known since childhood. Our marriage has already been decided long ago, and I see that you’ve remembered.”

“I do,” Karna said, looking conflicted for some reason, his fingertips too fleeting on Arjuna’s arms, halting him as they reached the centre of the labyrinth, “but I also remembered that you said you don’t want to marry me, when we were children,” he continued, and Arjuna looked away, not wanting to look at him, “I thought about it ever since.”

_He wanted to know my true feelings_ , Arjuna thought, reflexively, but the problem is, he doesn’t know about his true feelings, either. He was playing it close to his vest because _he doesn’t know_. Part of him resented Karna, but another part of him…

…was intrigued. He fiddled with his own fingers for a bit, and Karna waited patiently. 

“That statue,” Arjuna said, gesturing towards the statue of a satyr in a fountain in the centre, some distance away from them, “they say that it grants wishes. When I was a child I used to come all the time here and pressed my palms at it. Sometimes I threw coins at the fountain,” he continued, smiling slightly at the memory, “they say that the fountain itself was magical.”

“And now?” Karna said, stepping forward. Arjuna turned slightly towards him. “What do you wish for now, Arjuna?”

“To dance, with you,” Arjuna blurted out, cursing himself mentally for saying that. “Here, under the moonlight.”

Karna tilted his head, and Arjuna felt the strangest desire to pull him in and hold him, right then and there. “Why?” Karna asked, and the question hurts him more than the look of disappointment on Karna’s face back then. “Wasn’t I unworthy?” he said. “Didn’t you hate me, Arjuna? You were always so curt in your letters and calls. I thought there was someone else, but then I remembered what you said, about me and marriage,” he continued, and the ancient sadness that Arjuna remembered touched his eyes again. 

“No,” Arjuna finally said, shaking his head, “I didn’t hate you, Karna. It— it was stupid,” he said, breath catching in his throat, “and you...you are not unworthy.”

Their gazes met and Arjuna quickly stepped in and kissed him on the lips, wrapping his arms loosely around Karna’s waist. He could feel the other’s surprise, but Karna kissed him back, chastely, and Arjuna pulled away. 

He left Karna shortly after that—and the party—citing some urgent business, but he could not forget Karna’s disappointed expression, nor does the taste of his lips.

It would haunt him for the years to come.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wedding, and Karna and Arjuna's first night together as a married couple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I- I am really inspired by the line " _and I'm slowly learning to hold you / above a sleeping world_ " from the song [Sleeping World](https://open.spotify.com/track/6hBHGSSHlrg42N38gUR1IV) by Vancouver Sleep Clinic, I'm sorry. Follow my playlist [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/starfaell/playlist/5llf9Dup9DH7tshhUPi3FV) if you're interested in more Karjuna songs! 
> 
> Also, I'm sorry for the late update. I've had quite a rough week. Enjoy!

" _to send you a bunch of lilies_  
 _of the valley, which_ mean _,_  
 _in the language of flowers,_  
 _'I love you since long_.'"   
\- **James Schuyler**

 

It was something straight out of fairytales.

The guests were endless—all top people of the world, some of them fellow royalties—there were flowers, flowers everywhere, and they forced Arjuna into an expensive suit—even more expensive than the engagement one—that looks like it came straight out of a dream or a story, and the crown that he wore was heavier than the one he usually used for state events. He prayed that his father—or Karna’s father—didn’t accidentally forgot to invite someone important, for although curses are a thing of the past, you never know with fairytale weddings.

His father—speaking of—and his brothers were all lined up, looking just as suited up as him, all in full regalia, although of course not exactly as much as him, mingling and looking proud of him, sending him looks that could only be interpreted as such, and his mother, despite her proud, haughty nature—which some people say he takes after—fussed over him just so, making his embarrassment of the day complete.

Arjuna hated it all.

He could only see Karna in glimpses, as Karna could only see him in glimpses, too—it was tradition—but he could see that Karna looked just every bit as proud and well-dressed as him, in a suit that Arjuna was certain was just as expensive as his, if not more, and moreover, he looked happy, and regal with a crown on his pale hair.

Arjuna wondered and wondered about it, even until they stepped together into the altar, arm in arm. They had never spoken together again after the labyrinth incident—not in such a personal term—and although of course, they continued sending each other letters and gifts—Karna likes flowers, Arjuna knows, he sent him a lot of those and the flowers in the wedding might be his work, he suspected—and made professional appearances together in state events and such, afterwards Arjuna had always cited an excuse to not stick around. 

He knows Karna is well and truly confused about his feelings towards him. But he wasn’t the only one. Still, wasn’t the point of this wedding was political? It wasn’t supposed to be personal at all.

When the time came to made their vows, Arjuna didn’t stammer and neither does Karna, and Arjuna was a little surprised, although not completely so.

But what surprised him most was when Karna pulled him in for the kiss, wrapping his arms around his waist, his lips finding Arjuna’s. It was a soft, chaste kiss, not quite a lover’s kiss but it surprised Arjuna with how gentle it is, and it surprised him even more that he wished that it lasted longer, in somewhere more private, and that he returned it a bit sooner. It left a tingling feeling not just in his lips but also in his heart—in the way he caught his breath and how Karna’s eyes looked when he moved closer to kiss him, before they both closed their eyes—and Arjuna couldn’t quite forget it— _would_ not forget it, even after the bishop declared them married.

He thought, that was that, even as the music started and everyone congratulated them, in the aftermath.

The tingling sensation remained.

* * *

That night, after all the celebration of the day is done and over with—his father insisted that it should last at least an entire week (for the political implications, Arjuna thought sarcastically) but he and (unsurprisingly, for once) Karna steadfastly refused, even if their fathers are in agreement also for once—Arjuna felt the tiredness in his bones, despite the training that he went through all his lives, and he finally stopped pacing in his own solar—he told everyone he wanted to rest by his own for a bit and not be disturbed—and, although he dreaded it, made his way towards his and Karna’s bedchamber (even the thought is awkward). He had no way of knowing whether or not Karna is inside already—since he slipped up here without anyone knowing—so he slid in carefully, closing the double doors behind him.

And immediately froze on the spot because Karna was already there, sitting by the window, reading something.

He didn’t immediately notice Arjuna’s presence. He seemed to be too engrossed in reading, an important document by the look of it. Arjuna wondered if it had something to do with them, and slowly tiptoes to the bed. He didn’t fail to notice, as well, that the Karna that was all splendour and radiance in the wedding was gone—he was dressed in something simple—and yet, there was still something luminous about him, something inherently radiant and noble. 

“It was tiring, wasn’t it?” he suddenly said, looking up from his documents with a glance and a sideways smile. Arjuna froze on the spot again, not really knowing what to do or say. “All the guests and the partying,” Karna continued, humming a tune from the wedding march afterwards. “But I have to admit, I quite liked the music. And the flowers. Flowers make everything better.”

“Ah...” Arjuna stammered, not really knowing what to say just yet, still stuck halfway between the doors and the bed. “Yes, it is. Tiring, I mean. And...” he paused, thinking of all the flowers Karna had sent him. They had all the markings of something that had been chosen with great care and affection. “I do suppose the flowers make everything better. You chose them, didn’t you?”

“I did, yes,” Karna said, tilting his head, “did someone told you?”

“No,” Arjuna said, managing a small smile, “I figured it out myself. You always sent me flowers. I know you loved them.”

“And you always sent me stories,” Karna told him, turning fully towards him now. Arjuna could feel a blush lightening his cheeks.

“They’re not quite stories,” he said, shifting his feet, feeling guilty suddenly because he felt that he had been so curt with Karna ever since the labyrinth incident (and even before then), sending him only whatever he thought Karna thought would be interesting, along with some insider news and his own feats and superficial feelings regarding some political things.

“No, they are,” Karna insisted, putting his documents away. “You know I always enjoyed hearing from you and about you.”

“I didn’t know that,” Arjuna told him, and he stared at Karna awkwardly. 

“Well, now you know,” Karna said, rising from his seat, smiling at him. Arjuna averted his gaze, again not really knowing what to do.

“Yes,” Arjuna said, and a silence settles in between them temporarily, before Karna slid into his side of the bed. “Are you...done reading?”

“For the evening, yes,” he told him, tilting his head again, after making himself comfortable in bed. “Are you going to sleep beside me? For the record, we aren’t going to do anything if you don’t want to. We’ll let people assume what they want,” he smiled again, “would that be alright with you, Juna? And would it be alright if I called you Juna?”

“Yes,” Arjuna nodded awkwardly, slipping into bed beside him. “I mean, I’m alright with both. People will be people.”

“That’s good to hear,” Karna said, and Arjuna felt a jolt of surprise when he reached forward and ruffled his dark hair for a bit, “good night, Juna. This will be our secret.”

“Good night, Karna,” he said, tasting his name on his tongue, savouring it like he savoured the rare sunny days during the monsoon season in his country. 

Arjuna tried to sleep, but he discovered that he couldn’t. He shifted, thinking that Karna has already fast asleep.

“Juna,” Karna called out, and Arjuna felt surprised since he thought that Karna was already asleep, “do you need me to turn off the light?”

His old resentment towards Karna resurfaced. Arjuna hated being treated as a little brother—even if he _did_ have two elder brothers—especially by his new husband. “No,” he said, turning towards Karna, maybe a little bit spitefully, “I’m alright. Please do not worry about me.”

Karna still looked worried. Then—Arjuna didn’t know what prompted it or what Karna’s thought process was or even what he saw in him at that moment—he pulled him in for an embrace, and after a moment Arjuna stopped fighting it and let himself be held, resting his head on Karna’s chest. 

“Is this better?” Karna asked, and Arjuna detected a hint of playful teasing in his voice. 

Arjuna sighed, and answered petulantly, only slightly muffled by his position. “N- no,” he said, “you said we aren’t going to do anything.”

“And we aren’t,” Karna said. “I’m just helping you sleep.”

Perhaps it was this that made him act so brazenly, but either way Arjuna pulled back a little—just so he could see Karna’s face—and kissed him on the lips, softly, holding him the way he held him earlier during the wedding. He liked the taste of Karna, and the tingling sensation returned, along with thunderous heartbeats. He knows Karna could probably feel the latter, considering their proximity, but at the same time Arjuna could feel the same from him, too, and if it is possible for his heart to quicken even further, it would.

Karna looks flabbergasted after, even if he did returned the kiss. “Payback for the wedding,” Arjuna told him, giving him a smile, “now goodnight.”

Karna stole another kiss, apparently doesn’t want to be defeated. “Goodnight, Juna,” he said, kissing his forehead after, “sleep well.”

* * *

Gone were the night and Arjuna woke up at dawn, discovering that Karna had woken up before him and was still holding him, Arjuna’s back at him, Karna’s arms wrapped around him precariously, as if he was ephemeral, a phantasmal thing, as if Karna was learning how to hold him above a sleeping world. 

Perhaps he was. Arjuna shifted slightly, and Karna kissed him by the cheek. “Good morning, Juna,” he said, and Arjuna wondered why he didn’t feel awkward at all, or if he was hiding his awkwardness that well, because he was still feeling awkward, out of place, as if he somehow doesn’t deserve all of Karna’s kisses and affection. 

He knows he doesn’t. Perhaps he never does, even after they became a married couple. He knows Karna deserves better, and perhaps he sensed this, because he slowly released Arjuna. 

“What’s on your mind?” he asked, shifting so he was laying on his back. 

“N- nothing,” Arjuna finally answered, somehow glad that Karna had released him but at the same time disappointed, as well. Part of him had wanted them to stay that way, if not for the entire morning, then forever. “What’s on yours?”

“You looked good in the morning,” he said, innocently, with a blinding smile that made Arjuna averted his gaze. He leans in and kissed him on the cheek, again, and Arjuna felt himself blush. Is this how Karna felt towards him, or is he just being polite since they are married now? He couldn’t tell—well, he actually _could_ , but he doesn’t want to admit it—and he was mad at himself for that.

“Thank you,” Arjuna managed, at last, after an awkward amount of silence. “You too,” he added, in a smaller voice, and strangely meant it. 

A silence falls between them—a comfortable silence to Karna, since he wrapped one arm around Arjuna, but an awkward one for Arjuna, since he doesn’t know what to do—and Arjuna remembered the tingling sensation, their first kiss not that long ago in the middle of a labyrinth with a wish-granting fountain. Did Karna make a wish back then? He asked himself. And if so, what kind of wish did he make? He stole a glance at the other.

“What are your plans for today?” Karna asked, suddenly. 

“Why?” Arjuna blurted out, and quickly cursed himself for it, despite the fact that Karna smiled at the question.

“Well, we have an entire day for ourselves, so I wanted to ask you for breakfast in bed, if you want to,” he said, coyly, like a schoolboy, or the boy he was when he asked Arjuna to dance with him, way back then, and Arjuna felt the tingling sensation returned, and his heart skipped a beat.

It did not surprise him in the slightest that he felt his breath caught in his throat before he could muster an answer. “Well…I would rather sit in the council…” he mused, not liking the thought of a day not well spent, although somehow he liked that thought when it’s with Karna. But Karna immediately looked crestfallen, and Arjuna quickly corrected himself. Still, the damage was done. “But I’d like to do that with you, Karna.”

“Ah, I just remembered that I have some things to do today, however,” Karna said, the warmth in his voice that Arjuna previously experienced disappeared, and he pulled away, pulling himself to a sitting position. 

“Wait—“ Arjuna said, but Karna had already stood up, avoiding his gaze.

“Do not expect to see me until tonight,” he informed him, formally, and left.

Arjuna felt the hollowness and regret even before he left and closed the double doors behind him, leaving him alone in a bed and a room that was all too big for him alone.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The inevitable confrontation between Arjuna and Karna happened. As they resolved the problem between themselves, Arjuna also had to deal with the fact that he might have (already) fallen for Karna...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took me forever to update, a lot of things (again) happened. I'm gonna be real busy for the next month or so, but I'll be sure to try and update when I can! After all, I promised you guys intrigue, and you're gonna have a little bit of that, in the next chapter (don't kill me). 
> 
> Hope you guys are taking care of yourselves, and enjoy! <3

With every night that passes, Arjuna’s heart aches.

They still sleep together, in the same room, in the same bed, and yet, there was a distance between them that wasn’t there before, and they both are apparently good at that very specific and niche art of waiting for the other to fall asleep first until they come in, slowly, on tiptoes, and in the morning, hurriedly leaving the room to whatever event or affair they had to attend on that specific day. They still attended some together, of course, especially ones that required both of their presence, since their kingdoms are united now, and they both somehow managed, but even Karna’s smiles eventually started looking strained under closer inspection. 

Oh, but the love he was receiving. He was still beloved of his people—and now Arjuna’s too, he realised—and he received a lot of flowers, gifts, and letters. Arjuna belatedly realised that he felt slightly jealous. Not because of Karna’s popularity over him, no, but because of the _love_ itself. That apparently Karna doesn’t belong to him alone—despite the fact that they slept in the same bed every night, even with the difficulties that they are facing—and that he had to share him, at least in public, not just with his kingdom or Karna’s, but the entire world. 

It was a very confusing feeling.

That evening, Arjuna paced the length of their bedchamber, knowing that this will be one more evening that will pass as it always will—he will hear the crack of the twin doors when Karna thought he’d already fast asleep, and soft footsteps, tiptoeing in the dark, and eventually, a warm body beside him, so close yet so far away—especially since Karna had recently been coronated as Crown Prince. He knows that, if he tries to confront Karna about it, Karna will use that as an excuse for his behaviour because, Arjuna thought bitterly, he would do the same if he were him.

He couldn’t help it anymore. He left the empty, oppressing room behind him, and went to Karna’s study with every intention of confronting him.

Perhaps it was fate, or perhaps it was simple coincidence, but he bumped into him on the way there.

“Arjuna,” Karna managed the greeting first, inclining his head in a formal manner. Arjuna subconsciously narrowed his eyes at him. “What a coincidence. I was just about to call it a day.”

“Yes, Karna,” he said, sharply, “it is indeed a coincidence. I know were just about to go to bed.”

“Then what is the problem?” he is putting on a mask, Arjuna knows, and he grabbed his arm, hissing under his breath.

“Let’s just stop with this courtly nonsense unless you think I’m no longer deserving of your honesty,” Arjuna said, shoving him towards the nearest wall roughly. “Now, do you want to talk here or in the privacy of your study?”

Something—an emotion Arjuna, again, couldn’t quite catch—darkened Karna’s face for a moment, like clouds passing over the sun, covering it momentarily, but he didn’t push Arjuna away. Still, he averted his gaze and turned the other way, towards his study. Arjuna felt the ache returned, stronger than ever. “Let’s go to my study,” he said, coldly, and that hurts Arjuna more than anything.

The short way to Karna’s study felt lonely in the silence, as if whatever warmth that had existed between them has been sucked into the cold loneliness of the dark evening sky. Arjuna didn’t know what he expected—that there was conversation between them, no matter how small and insignificant? How terribly naïve, he thought, scoffing privately at the thought. Of course there will be no conversation between them. It was as if they were just two teenagers, again, stumbling upon each other after that party, and Karna asked him, awkwardly, for a dance, except this time, he was the one giving Arjuna the cold shoulder.

Karna’s study was, in marked contrast of the owner’s current demeanour, still warm. There are still traces of an ember glowing in the fireplace—he’s quite old-fashioned—and there’s still a human-shaped depression on the grand chair behind the wooden desk where he sat, lightly, before. 

Karna turned to him, looking apologetic for a moment before the cold look returns. “We’re here,” he said, just a little bit strained, seating himself at the grand chair and gesturing at the empty chair opposite towards Arjuna, “please, have a seat. Now, since you want me to dispense the nonsense, what do you want to talk about?”

“…no,” Arjuna told him, after studying him for a moment, refusing to sit down. “Still not enough. You’re still pretending that there is nothing wrong,” he said, raising his voice just a little, “is that a skill you’ve learnt after becoming Crown Prince, or is that something you’ve learnt after we got married?”

Karna narrowed his eyes at him, and for the first time, Arjuna senses his anger. He knows that he should feel ashamed, especially since Karna is his own husband, but he couldn’t bring himself to it. Instead, he felt a vague feeling of triumph—although it is cold and hollow, like the insides of a corrupted holy artefact. “Very well,” Karna said, coolly, leaning back on his seat, and Arjuna had never realised that he could be so aloof, “you wanted to talk about what happened the morning after we got married. Isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Arjuna said, meeting him head-on, not relenting nor backing down, “I know you’re angry at me because I said the wrong thing. But it’s no excuse for excommunicating me.”

Karna scoffed, crossing a leg over the other. His usually warm gaze are merciless, and Arjuna felt like he was seeing a side of Karna that he’d never seen. Perhaps it was something that he’d learnt from Duryodhan, even though he was adopted. “ _Excommunicating_ you? You’re one to talk, Arjuna,” he said, and Arjuna felt as if they were playing chess and Karna was placing an important piece before him, in all his glory, “you refused to talk to me too. Don’t give me that holier than thou attitude. I was merely disappointed. _You_ were angry because _your_ pride was hurt.”

“You? Merely _disappointed_?” Arjuna retorted, taking a step closer and scoffing at him openly. “It’s a disappointment that lasted for _years_! I know you were disappointed at me ever since we were children,” he continued, hotly, cutting Karna off before he could argue, “I know you wanted someone who was more open to you,” Arjuna felt himself softening, even if he didn’t meant to, “someone who was more _accepting_ of you. But Karna—“ he looked at him, sternly at first, but gradually softening, “I am not your missing mother. Nor your father.”

Arjuna felt his heart beating faster, not only because he knows that Karna would be more angry with him than ever—probably even kicking him out and causing the rift that has already opened in their marriage to be ripped open even further—but also because he was afraid.

Of losing him.

There was silence, as broad and impenetrable as the night, and Arjuna could felt Karna’s hard gaze on him, studying him, processing his words, weighing it all silently. Eventually, he averted his gaze and inhaled, letting out a sigh. “You’re right,” he said, barely above a whisper, but a storm in the quiet study. “You are not my mother, nor my father. And you, too, are right, in the fact that I was disappointed at you for years. I felt- I felt like you hated me,” he confessed, and Arjuna felt his eyes went wide, “for years, that is how I felt. And that morning, when I thought, finally, that you _didn’t_ hate me, that it was all me, you said that you’d rather sit in the boring council meeting than spend the day with me. I guess I let my disappointment get the better of me, didn’t I?” he said, with a self-depreciating laugh. 

In a moment, Arjuna couldn’t help but laugh, too, and, absurdly, they both laughed together. 

“I never hated you, Karna,” Arjuna finally said, after both of them sobered up enough to continue talking—and it was easier now that Karna’s cold exterior had melted away, “It was- I was sometimes jealous of you,” he admitted, “you were better at me in everything. And you- you weren’t who I expected to end up as my husband,” he continued, but stopped when he saw that Karna’s eyes widened, too. “But it was all in the past. And I never did hated you. I- I am sorry,” he added, awkwardly, averting his gaze, “for making you felt that way. Especially for years. And during that morning, too.”

Out of all the things that Arjuna expected Karna to do—when he stole a look at him—Arjuna didn’t expect Karna to uncross his legs, stood up, and softly padded over to where he was standing, after all this time. “Then what kind of person did you expect ended up marrying you?”

He was close, Arjuna knows it. He could smell his perfume—intoxicating in such close quarters, and filled the study—and his skin underneath that, a familiar smell by now. Someone who’d spent his nights sleeping beside him. Arjuna held his breath, and, lifting his gaze defiantly, wrapped his arms around Karna’s waist and pull him closer. “Someone like you,” he said, with a smile, lips touching Karna’s softly. Karna kissed him back not long afterwards, just as soft, and yet insistent, wrapping his arms around Arjuna’s neck. 

They spent some time like that, tasting one another, holding each other—until they are both satisfied. By then, they were seated together at a sofa in the corner, Karna resting his head on Arjuna’s shoulder, Arjuna’s arm wrapped around him comfortably.

“Do you want to go to bed now?” Arjuna asked, after a comfortable silence they shared together.

“Not really,” Karna hummed, “we have all night.”

“Then,” Arjuna smiled, disentangling himself suddenly from the other man, “I have something to ask you.”

“What is it, Juna?”

“Put the music on,” he says, smiling, touching Karna’s arm. “I’ve been wanting to dance with you since a long, long time.”

Karna smiled back, his eyes pools of warmth like the sun, and stood up after stealing a kiss from him. “Of course,” he said, “I’ve been waiting for you to ask.”

* * *

With their marriage no longer a burden—politically and personally—Arjuna could breathe a little sigh of relief. He did not like to admit it to anyone, even his own brothers, who could see it, but he’s growing very fond of Karna, and close besides, and their nights are now spent with meaningful time together—when they have time—instead of awkward, impenetrable silence, and during the day, Arjuna found himself missing his husband more often than not. 

It was not a feeling that he was accustomed with. The protectiveness, too, was something new. 

There is a new princess in court—she arrived in swirling silk and the smell of exotic spices from the Southern kingdom—and she was making waves. Arjuna couldn’t help but notice her attempts towards acquiring Karna’s attention, and he couldn’t help but burn—in silence and in private—with his own jealousy.

Still, still— _he_ was the one Karna kissed on hunting trips, the one Karna smiled to when they danced together, the one Karna held every single night without fail. And he, on the other hand, held only Karna’s hands, spoke softly only to him, and comforts him whenever he needed him.

He never realised it, but something in him had changed. 

Tonight, Arjuna found Karna sitting near the window, waiting for him in their bedchamber. Arjuna nearly couldn’t help trying to tiptoe around him, remembering their first night together. 

The moment he entered, Karna looked up and smiled. “There you are,” he said, “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Well,” Arjuna replied, giving him a small smile in return, “I’ve been quite busy. Why have you been waiting for me? Is it the usual reason or do you have anything else in mind, Karna?”

Karna rose from his seat, took his hand in his gently. “Do you want to go out someplace tonight? I’m quite bored and tired and it would be nice to spend some time with my husband, who has also been quite bored and tired lately, or so it seems.”

“Last weekend’s hunting trip wasn’t enough for you?” Arjuna suppressed another smile.

“I want time for just the two of us,” Karna said, kissing his hand, like a proper prince and husband would, and Arjuna couldn’t help but blush, ever so slightly. He truly understood now why the new princess courted his attention—it wasn’t only the power he held, it was something else, something intangible that makes Arjuna’s heart beats faster every time he was in Karna’s presence. It was as if he was the sun, and the rest of the world turned towards him naturally.

It was as if Karna was _his_ sun, and Arjuna couldn’t refused him—not ever—not in all his brilliance and warmth. 

“I know just the perfect place,” Arjuna told him, smiling gently, hoping that Karna wouldn’t notice the red lightening his cheeks.

* * *

They snuck out of the palace together, hand-in-hand, like children would, and they borrowed two horses from the stable—this part was a little hard since the horses liked Karna and therefore they made a lot of noise every time they saw him enter—quite discreetly and quickly made their way into the dark canopy of trees. If anyone saw or heard them, Arjuna thought, they are probably letting them be, possibly for fear of punishment, although if they disappear too long, the palace staff was bound to go look after them. 

Either way, for the time being, they are alone. They rode in silence for a while, Karna close behind, until the ground gave way to a gentle slope and the trees parted to give them a view of a clearing, and a moonlit lake, dark, still waters lapping gently under familiar constellations. They can still see the stars out here, and tonight, they are out in force, forming another sort of canopy, stately in their cold, regal indifference, like the monarchs of old. 

They dismounted some distance from the lake and tethered their horses.

“...huh,” Karna remarked, afterwards, staring at the lake, “this is a better place than the one I’ve had in mind,” he teased, “we should not have eaten dinner and brought some food instead. Or at least some wine.”

“This is a good spot, isn’t it?” Arjuna said, moving forward to pull Karna by the waist and steal a gentle kiss, “I’m glad I thought of it.”

“Me too,” Karna said, although he seemed to be distracted, just a little. Arjuna, as always, wondered what’s in his mind. “I’m glad you thought of it, Juna.”

“Of course,” Arjuna continued, teasing him in return, not letting him go just yet, “I always thought of all the best spots. You have yet to pay me back, Karna.”

“Indeed,” Karna said, smiling lightly, “that is the case, isn’t it?”

“Come on,” Arjuna disengaged himself from Karna, gently, “let’s swim,” he let himself go and gave Karna a lopsided smile, “winner gets a special reward.”

“Here, under this moonlight?” Karna said, watching as Arjuna stretches and started to undress, for the first time throwing his clothes to the sidelines and not caring about a thing in the world except for the man he was with, “of course, Juna.”

Arjuna stole a glance—Karna was still watching—and gave him a smile before letting out a whoop that, in more ways than one, uncharacteristic and unbecoming of him, but he doesn’t care anymore. 

Then he jumped, and the cold, dark water greeted him—but not for long. He surfaced, let out a laugh, and, not long enough, he heard a splash of water. 

“I thought you’d never going to catch up,” Arjuna turned slightly in the water, watching as Karna waded after him. 

“And I thought you’d never jump,” Karna retorted, calmly, going after him, still brilliant even after the sun has set. 

“I’ll take that as a challenge,” Arjuna pulls him close once he’s close enough, closing the distance between them with a kiss, feeling Karna’s heat and the thundering beat of his heart through the closeness of their naked bodies. 

“Then I’ll vow to beat you,” Karna said, with an enigmatic smile that reminded Arjuna of the moon, reflected in his pale hair.

“You’ll never win,” Arjuna said, putting on a mock serious face and pushed him away playfully.

* * *

In the aftermath, they waded to the shore together, tired but energised, and, under the sacred, illusionary light of the moon, made love briefly where the water of the lake still lapped gently on their feet. Karna lays in his arms afterwards, silent but content—Arjuna can see it in his eyes—and Arjuna kissed his forehead, gently.

“I wish it could be like this, forever,” Karna said, breaking the deceptive silence of the lapping waters and the forest after dark, his head on Arjuna’s chest.

Arjuna lets the words hang in the air for a bit, not wanting to the moment to end so soon with unnecessary words, letting it wash over him, like the lake water touching his feet with the softness of a lover. He weighs a few things in mind—and pulls his husband closer to his chest.

“Then...there is nothing between you and that princess?”

There was silence again, for Karna was looking at him in a funny way, before breaking into peals of laughter. It was the first time Arjuna has ever heard him being so open with his laughter, so free—just like Arjuna’s uncharacteristic whoop earlier. Perhaps, he thought, as he heard Karna laugh, this is what it meant to be alive.

“Draupadi?” he said, after he was done laughing, and truth be told, Arjuna wanted to laugh with him, too. In light of Karna’s laughter, even the mere notion of it sounds stupid, especially in this landscape, _their_ landscape, shaped by the moon and given life by the water. “No, there is absolutely nothing between us. Do you know-“ he said, stealing a kiss from Arjuna’s lips in-between the words, climbing on top of him, “-why I asked you out, tonight, of all nights, Juna?”

Arjuna was flabbergasted. He had to admit to himself that he had not the slightest idea. But Karna laughed, again, a midnight sun, a paradox, and he kissed Arjuna’s forehead, this time. His expression softens. “Happy Anniversary, my beloved.”

Arjuna smiled at him in return, pulling him closer, and their lips met again, soft at first, and then rougher. “Happy Anniversary, Karna.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karna seemed to hide something from Arjuna. A new revelation is brought upon the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so late but I somehow powered through lol. I'm sorry this is so late, I have to chase my muse down and sat it down so I can write this. 
> 
> Your comments and kudos honestly fuel me, so if you did, thank you so much! I hope you enjoy this chapter.

The clock in their room strikes ten—an old-fashioned clock that was imported from his father’s estates and whose possession had gone back as far as his great-great-great-great-grandfather—and Arjuna paces the length of their bedroom once more, worry creasing his face, hands clasped behind his back. 

It’s not usually like Karna to be late like this.

Of course, they had their share of arguments ever since their Anniversary—no marriage is perfect after all, even if they strived to make it so—but they haven’t had any lately, and even if they do, it’s still unlike Karna to come into their bedchambers late. They usually reserve an hour or so for each other before bed, where they talk and drink wine—sometimes stronger spirits, when the situation calls for it—and simply entertain each other with a familiar presence after a long day of statecraft and the like. It was a situation that Arjuna considers unthinkable before he married Karna, especially _with_ Karna, but now had become such an ingrained habit that going without it has become quite unthinkable. 

He paces the room once more, before deciding to look for his husband, and exited the chamber. 

The hallway to Karna’s study—a place where he’d most likely find him—was not deserted, but Arjuna kept an impassive face and glared at any staff member that stares at him for too long. It wasn’t long before he reached the place, and he knocked at the heavy wooden door. There was no answer. He tried again, and again, but there was still no answer. Growing impatient as he is, Arjuna finally decided to try the door—and it opens, revealing a well-appointed study behind it.

Karna was seated in the tall chair behind the desk, looking tired, and he doesn’t seem to notice the other man’s presence. Arjuna briefly wondered why, but figured out that it’s better to ask.

“Karna,” he called out, closing the door behind him, “are you quite alright?”

The words seemed to snap Karna out from whatever reverie he’s in, and he looked surprised for a moment, before straightening himself up. “Oh, it’s you, Juna. I thought…I thought you were somebody else,” he said, gaze darting from Arjuna to the door and then back, “but yes, I’m quite alright. Thank you,” he added, managing a small smile. “Any particular reason why you’ve come here tonight? Am I in any trouble?”

Arjuna wanted to laugh, but he gave him a small smile in return instead, and shook his head. “Well, not that I know of,” he said, putting on an air of the seriously joking, “unless you’ve made any? I know you can barely keep out of trouble.”

“Speak for yourself,” Karna chided, chuckling lightly. “Anyway, Juna…do tell me why you’re here. Take a seat. I’ll pour you something.”

Arjuna’s gaze darted to the stopper and the glass laid out on the desk in front of Karna. The other man did drink every now and then, but he’d never been a compulsive drinker. Arjuna did notice, however, that he seemed to drink more whenever he was stressed out. And by the look of it, Karna was stressed out due to something that he didn’t know yet.

“No,” Arjuna told him, “I’m going to skip drinking tonight,” he said, and Karna arched a pale eyebrow, “but you did look as if you’ve been at it for quite a while, didn’t you?” he continued, observing Karna for any signs of guilt, but the other man simply leaned back in his seat and sighed. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

Karna stared at him, and for a moment, Arjuna saw something flicker in his mismatched eyes, but he looked away, pouring himself a drink. There was a fair amount of silence, and Arjuna wondered if he was ever going to get his answer.

“There is nothing wrong,” Karna finally said, shrugging, “I’m just tired, that’s all.”

“Are you?” Arjuna asked, deadpanning. “I know you are, Karna, but it’s unlike you to be like this. No, there must be something. I know it.”

Karna smiled, wryly, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “Something like what? Everything’s fine, Arjuna. And if it wasn’t, it is now, now that you’re here.”

“Smooth, but lacking in execution,” Arjuna commented, dryly. “I thought we agreed that there’s not going to be any secrets between us, Karna.”

“And there _isn’t_ ,” Karna insisted, sipping his whiskey. At Arjuna’s glare, he puts down the glass and raised his hands, slowly, “please,” he added, quite apologetically, Arjuna noted, “can we just talk about something else?” he gave him another small smile, “perhaps tell me about your day?”

“Mmm,” Arjuna responded, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “My day was fine,” he said, “nothing special.”

“Do _you_ want it to be special?” Karna says, and Arjuna felt himself blushing. If Karna noticed, he didn’t show any signs of it, instead going back into finishing his drink and humming a catchy tune that Arjuna recognised as what passed as pop music to the younger generation nowadays (not that he’s that much older, but still). “Tomorrow’s Saturday. Perhaps we can go for a ride?”

Karna placed the other glass in front of him and filled it (he refilled his own soon after), and Arjuna raised an eyebrow. “I thought I told you that I’m going to skip drinking tonight. Are you perhaps going deaf, Karna?”

Karna laughed, the twinkle in his eyes was reflected in the glass he was raising. “That’s the Juna I know,” he said, smiling, “just one glass won’t hurt. We’ll go to bed after if that’s what you want. For the sake of us? Please?” he tilted his head, glass still raised in a toasting gesture. Arjuna sighed and grudgingly took the glass in front of him, toasting him with a scowl.

“Cheers,” he told him, a little glumly, feeling secretly hurt that Karna might hide something from him even if he’d never acknowledged it, “for the record, I think there’s a chance it might rain tomorrow.”

“Oh, trust me,” Karna hums another part of the tune, “it’s going to be sunny tomorrow. So that’s a yes?”

Arjuna didn’t want to believe him, but he did. He glared at him, then, for a second, then two, and then looked away, still scowling. “That’s a yes. But that’s probably just the whiskey and the tiredness speaking, so don’t flatter yourself, Karna.”

Karna nods and smiles, and reached for his hand across the desk. Arjuna allows it, but still looked the other way. “Don’t worry, Juna,” he said, “I’m not.”

* * *

Infuriatingly, Karna was right—the next day was as sunny as sunny can be, and to top it off, the birds are chirping, and the sky was so blue it hurts, like the colour of Karna’s eye, or something straight out of the fairytale. When he’d mounted his horse and rode off to join the party, he was surprised by the size of it—or, well, the nearly _nonexistent_ size of it. There are only four people, Arjuna noted—six including them—and none of them is particularly close to Karna’s father, but instead is close to Karna. His trusted advisors, so to speak. Arjuna had always thought that Karna trusted people too easily, especially for someone of his standing, but here he realised that his assessment of Karna had been wrong, or at least he needed to rectify it. The other man had apparently learnt his share of lessons, or he had always been like this all along, but was good at hiding it.

That doesn’t help Arjuna’s mood. He shifted slightly on his seat.

“What’s wrong?” Karna asked, turning his steed around to face him, a look of concern etched on his face. 

“Nothing,” Arjuna reassured him, pacing his own horse. “Let’s just go.”

They asked each other no more questions as they rode into the forest. Arjuna initially thought that Karna was about to take them to the lake, as they often do, but he turned the other way and went deeper into the forest. It doesn’t quite felt right to Arjuna, who was born with a deeply suspicious nature, and something about Karna’s behaviour doesn’t quite add up, but Arjuna followed him, even if he started to question him. 

After a while, they reached a medium-sized clearing—a beautiful, secluded clearing—and Arjuna couldn’t see their bodyguards anywhere. 

Karna could have planned something nefarious against him—could have killed him—and he could get away with it. The thought quickens Arjuna’s heart, brought up an unpleasant flare of cold fury. 

The other man dismounted, and move to help Arjuna do the same. Arjuna didn’t accept his hand, though he would not admit to what he just thought. Karna seemed blatantly confused, but he accepted Arjuna’s slight with a graceful composure.

“Why did you bring me here?” Arjuna asked without waiting, without any prologue, his voice harsh among the sea of trees. 

“Because this is a nice spot,” Karna said, with one of his secretive smiles, “and because I wanted to make it a special Saturday for you, Juna.”

Arjuna sensed that there was more to it, and he wouldn’t let it go. “What a wonderful husband you are,” he told him, dryly, “but there’s more to it, isn’t it? You’ve been acting strange since last night. Are you going to talk to me, or are you just going to let me assume terrible things?”

Karna’s smile fell, and he looked away. The tension that Arjuna felt earlier during the ride returned, and it shows in the set of his thin shoulders. He pats his horse, slowly, before finding a tree to tie it temporarily, then he waited, expectantly, for Arjuna to do the same. After Arjuna did the same, he extended a hand to him, and Arjuna took it, albeit reluctantly. They walked, for a bit, hand-in-hand, and there was silence, their riding boots crunching dead leaves and branches underneath it as they walked. Something about it reminded Arjuna of their time at the hedge maze, where they first kissed each other shyly, that time that felt like a lifetime ago, even if it wasn’t actually that long ago just yet. 

“I thought that maybe…maybe we could talk here,” Karna said, stopping quite abruptly. Arjuna gave him a skeptical look.

“Talk about what?” he said, feeling Karna’s hand on his tighten for a short moment, as if he was afraid of something. Arjuna wanted to push him to quickly spill it, whatever it is, but he knows that if he did that, Karna might never talk. So he kept his silence and his doubts to himself.

There was silence, interrupted only by the sound of the forest around them, lanced through by sunlight, and Karna’s hand is getting sweaty, but Arjuna held on and waited. 

“What if I told you—“ Karna started, slowly, too slow for Arjuna’s liking, “—that our entire marriage was a ploy? A clever ploy, that, devised by someone smarter than us, or at least older. How would you react, Juna?”

Arjuna turned towards him, surprised by his own calm, by his own lack of reaction, or the void of emotion that he felt. “I would destroy whoever devised it,” he told him, gripping Karna’s hand, “especially if they threatened you in any way.”

“Exactly as I thought,” Karna said, sighing, looking away. “Juna, it’s true: our marriage was—is—a ploy. I have…my sources, and they told me that the true purpose behind it is to assassinate your father.”

“My _father_?” Arjuna said, gripping Karna’s hand tighter, for a moment forgetting everything—himself, Karna, the clearing. “What— what’s the meaning behind this? Are you fucking with me, Karna? You better not be fucking around with me,” he growled, releasing Karna’s hand, narrowing his eyes at him, “this better be _serious_.”

Karna returned his anger with a cold look, a look impervious to Arjuna’s curses and threats, and Arjuna felt the cold fury he felt earlier returning. “Do I have any reason to lie to you? We promised that we’re not going to have any secrets between us,” he said, and holds up a finger, “and Juna, getting mad at me is not going to solve the problem. Trust me.”

Arjuna paused for a moment, running Karna’s question in his head, asking himself if the other man had any reason to lie to him, and finding none. His fury snarled in frustration—inflamed by his old jealousy and dislike towards Karna—but he kept it under control. He sighed, and ran his fingers through his dark hair. 

“I do,” he said, “I trusted you. But do I trust your sources? That’s another question.”

“I’d say ask your own little birds, except I don’t think we have much time,” Karna deadpans, “your life is on the line too, Juna. He’s going to kill you too, if you get in the way.”

“ _He_?”

Karna sighed, looking more exhausted than Arjuna had ever seen him before. He knows that there is something—last night Karna kept shifting and shifting and Arjuna has to hold him until dawn—but he’d never expected, no, not even dreamt of, that it was something this big, this… _unbelievable_.

Though perhaps he should have known better. 

“My— my father,” Karna said, finally. “He’s the one behind this.”

Arjuna felt like the words triggered some kind of storm inside of him, _made_ him into a storm—but at the same time, he felt deathly calm, as well, as if he was standing in the eye of that storm. Perhaps he finally understood why storms are named after people. He nearly didn’t feel his hand, reaching out to grab Karna by the arm. 

“Why?” he asked, the deathly calm he was feeling seeping into his voice, at the same time brimming with a thousand different emotions. It was a stupid question, a silly inquiry, something that children asked when they fell down and hurt themselves, and Arjuna could hear his own voice echo in the quietness between them, could hear the eternity of the forest reflected in his low tone. Karna seemingly flinched at his touch—or was it his question, he didn’t know anymore—suddenly a stranger, mystery made flesh. He quickly straightened up himself, however—always the perfect prince, Arjuna thought, only a little bitterly.

“I— he—“ Karna stuttered, his mind clearly searching for words that it did not possess. “Arjuna, please do not think badly of him. He—“

“I’m simply asking the _why_ , Karna,” Arjuna cuts him off, gripping his arm. A part of him—that remained detached and logical from all the fury going on inside of him—noticed that even now, Karna remained the loyal son, defending his father, adoptive or not (or perhaps it was the fact that Duryodhan had rescued him from poverty and showed him kindness that made him defend him, even now), but he doesn’t really care anymore. He could feel himself shaking with anger. “ _Please_ , do answer me.”

“He— he wanted more power. He thought that if he gets your father out of the way—and maybe you as well—it would give him the right to annex your lands. And with my—our—status, he would definitely have the legitimate right to do that.” Arjuna released him, and Karna let out a long sigh, massaging his temple. “I’m— I’m sorry, Juna. I really didn’t know—“

“I’m going back to the palace,” Arjuna informed him, already moving to where their horses are tethered. “This demands a quick response, as you told me. I’m going to warn my father.”

“Arjuna—“ Karna started, but Arjuna already turned back and made his way towards the horses. “Listen to me,” he says, but Arjuna ignores him. That is, until Karna grabbed him by the arm and pulled him towards him. Arjuna shakes himself free, gave him an angry glare. “Listen to me for one _fucking_ second,” Karna continued, the same deathly calm that Arjuna heard earlier in his voice now made itself known in Karna’s voice, and Arjuna couldn’t help but listen. “Do you think warning him would do you any good? Listen. That place is laden with spies. The moment they know there’s something wrong, they’re going to act against us. That’s why I brought you here. Please, listen to me, Juna,” he pleads, “your life’s in the line here, too. There must be another way out.”

“Another way out that doesn’t involve me crushing Duryodhan’s skull? Sure, let’s hear it.” Arjuna told him, clenching his teeth. He regretted his words, however, at the pained expression in Karna’s face. He only realised it now, but Karna did not only looked tired, he also looked sad, as if…as if he lost him already. Arjuna’s expression softens, and, against his own better judgment, he touched Karna’s face, gently. “I’m…sorry,” he says, “I suppose I got carried away. This entire situation is just…just gets into my nerves, that’s all,” he tried to smile, but what came out was more like a grimace, “I promise that, no matter what we chose to do, I wouldn’t let any harm come to you, though.”

“And I would do the same,” Karna said, smiling wistfully, leaning into his touch. “So what do you think we should do, Juna?”

There was a long silence—Arjuna pulled his hand back to his side—and he considered several possibilities in his mind. One possibility, however, immediately came to mind, and wouldn’t leave his attention. 

It was a cruel possibility, and Arjuna didn’t like it either, but it spoke to him about what’s necessary. Not only that, it spoke to his anger, and quelled it somewhat, and thus, it was an appealing possibility. He closed his eyes, feeling the forest all around him, and the quiet neighing of their horses nearby.

“Juna?” Karna asked, touching his hand lightly with concern, “are you alright?”

“I am,” he answered, opening his eyes and giving the other man a small smile. He noticed that Karna is struggling to return it, and that worry lines are starting to form on his face. He was truly worried—and exhausted, too. “I was just thinking,” he said, pulling Karna close for a conciliatory, reassuring kiss, albeit only briefly. The other man looked at him expectantly afterwards, and Arjuna swallowed, hard, the warmth of Karna’s mouth still etched in his own. “You asked me what _I_ think we should do, Karna,” he started, “and I think— I think…we should strike before Duryodhan did. Take him out of the picture.”

There was silence, and then the colour drained out of Karna’s already pale face—if it was possible—when the true implication of Arjuna’s words sink in. Arjuna felt sorry already, not towards the man that he spoke about, but at the man he was with. He doesn’t want to lose his father, yet here he is, suggesting patricide.

“So you’re suggesting—“ Karna started, deathly calm, toying with his own hand, running his fingers through his pale hair, “—that we kill my father in order to save yours. Not bad.”

“ _Karna_ —“ Arjuna swallowed his anger, wanting very hard to slap the other man, at least, but raked his fingers through his hair instead, then running his hand down his face, trying to calm himself down, “he’s going to try to kill me too. Don’t you remember what you said, yourself? That he’s going to kill me if I get in the way? Didn’t that mean something to you?”

“For the sake of the gods, Arjuna,” he spits out, “I’m not going to trade one life for the sake of the other.”

“Then let’s just go back,” Arjuna deadpans, “let’s go back, and watch my father die. Isn’t that what you want?”

“I—“ Karna said, glaring at him with his own cold fury, and Arjuna knows that he’d successfully riled him up. “Why the fuck are we fighting? I thought we’re on the same side.”

“We are,” Arjuna told him, crossing his arms over his chest, “but you decided to be childish about it.” Karna stared at him, then, disbelief written all over his face, as if he couldn’t believe just how childish Arjuna can be—which is, obviously, untrue, he’s not the childish one here—then he shook his head, and let out a small laugh. Arjuna scowled at him, arms still crossed over his chest, clearly annoyed at this sudden turn of events. “Why are you laughing?” he demanded. “We aren’t talking about what to wear to the Winter Ball, Karna. Lives are on the line here. You said so yourself.”

“It is, of course,” Karna said, and, to Arjuna’s annoyance, he stepped close and ruffled his hair, which elicited a sound of protest from Arjuna, “but you get so adorably flustered over it. If there’s no other choice…” he trailed off.

“No, there are,” Arjuna interjected. “I don’t want to push you to make any decisions. Especially one that you are going to regret later. After all…” he felt his expression softens, once more, “I care about you, Karna. As I said, I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

“And I love you,” Karna said, immediately, much to Arjuna’s surprise (somehow, he was still surprised to hear the words every time they came out running from Karna’s mouth). “Then let’s make a pact, Juna. Let’s protect each other. I vow to protect you until death do us part. And even until then.”

“Now you sound like you’re reenacting our marriage, but with more bloodlust,” Arjuna said, can’t help but laughed a little despite the serious matter at hand. “But yes, I like this. I vow to protect you, too, until death do us part, and even until then. I vow to eliminate every threat that threatens your life. And of course…” he gave him a thin smile. “I vow to always love you, too.”

“You don’t have to try to one-up me at everything,” Karna protested, and Arjuna laughed. There was silence, afterwards, and they stared at each other, understanding passes between them without words, before nodding. “It is settled, then,” Karna says, smiling slightly, but Arjuna still sees the sadness in his eyes. “Let’s start planning.”

Arjuna took his hand, then, and held it gently in his palm, letting their fingers intertwined, feeling Karna’s warmth seeping through him. “Hey,” he said, trying to reassure him, “I’m with you, Karna. Whatever it takes.”

Karna manages another thin smile—sadness still in the different-coloured pools of his eyes—and kisses Arjuna’s hand, just as gently. “Yes,” he told him, and for a moment, Arjuna could hear the steel in his voice, and at that moment, he knows that Karna had made his decision. He knows that they needed no blood to seal their pact. Nothing could get between them. “Whatever it takes,” he hums, and Arjuna, strangely, felt warmth in the pit of his stomach.

It doesn’t come easily, but they will choose each other, in whatever universe.

* * *

The coronation day comes, and part of him still couldn’t believe it.

It was a cloudy day, the smell of spring heavy in the air—another year had passed—and the entire world was holding its breath, waiting for the new king to be crowned. The old one, who passed away suddenly and without warning, was not yet forgotten, through his words and deeds—regardless of how he tried to paint himself, he wasn’t a good king—but there is hope, in form of the soon-to-be new king, for he was charitable and good-natured, and the people loved him very much.

Almost as much as Arjuna did. 

He was with Karna in the state room, where they hide away from prying eyes before the coronation starts, and the aforementioned man was sitting calmly in his seat, letting other people do the fretting, as if it wasn’t a very important day for him. He was wearing black and red, the royal colours, but also to demonstrate that he was still very much in mourning over the death of his royal father, adoptive or not. 

The smell of perfume was heavy in the air—Karna’s perfume, which Arjuna had always liked and hated with an equal amount—and Arjuna felt as if it was their wedding day again, and he was nervously waiting for it to begin. 

“What are you thinking?” Karna asked, his gaze flickered from the mirror to where Arjuna was seated, in one of the plush sofas lining the room, with a glass of red wine in front of him. Karna was seated some distance away from him, in front of an elaborate dressing table.

“Ah, nothing,” Arjuna answered, reaching out for his wine. “I was just thinking about our first trip to the forest clearing.”

“Oh,” Karna said, smiling enigmatically, but Arjuna could sense the sadness behind it. After all, it was where all of this had started. “That. I was hoping to make your Saturday special. Did I manage to do that?”

“Well…yes and no,” Arjuna said, nursing his drink before putting it aside so he could make his way to where Karna was seated, “it was indeed special. In more ways than one.”

Karna took his hand, toyed with it for a little while as comfortable silence descended upon them. In truth, Arjuna felt awkward, because he wanted to comfort him about the death of his father—by their hands, in a manner of speaking, if he was speaking the truth—but he never really know how. In the months after—before the coronation—Karna did all that was expected of a son and a prince in mourning, and he never did try to distance himself from Arjuna, but Arjuna felt a little distance growing between them, nevertheless. 

He doesn’t want it. He wanted it to be gone. 

“Are you…sad, Juna?” Karna suddenly said, tracing lines on his knuckle, gamely avoiding his gaze. Arjuna savoured the sensation, but he scowled at himself mentally for allowing his thoughts to show on his face. “You look sad. Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said, smoothly (he was surprised at how smooth it came out), “I’m just…distracted by how you look, that’s all.”

That was not at all what he’d been meaning to say, but it had escaped the cage of his throat nevertheless, so he stood there, stone-faced, waiting for Karna’s response. The other man simply laughed. 

“Do I look that ugly?” he asked, clearly an invitation for friendly, casual banter. Arjuna, however, felt his face reddened—Karna was the furthest thing from ugly. Especially now, in full state paraphernalia, about to be crowned as king in a matter of hours.

“N- no,” he managed, stuttering over his words, have to avoid his own husband’s gaze, “I mean, well, yes,” he huffs. “The uniform really doesn’t suit you. I really much prefer you in a suit.”

Karna’s ghost of a smile returns, and Arjuna felt his face—if possible—reddened even more. He knows Karna would never let him live, now. “I’ll take that as a compliment, Juna,” he says, turning away to face himself in the mirror, fixing his hair—Arjuna thinks—somewhat haughtily, which isn’t very Karna-like at all. Perhaps what he said has somehow inflated Karna’s ego to an intolerable size. He was still scowling when Karna stood up from his seat and pulled him in for a sudden kiss. “Thank you, Juna,” he sighed, and Arjuna knows that whatever happens, they’re going to get through together. “I love you.”

“I love you too, idiot,” Arjuna told him, kissing him back in return.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, as always, comments & suggestions are welcome <3


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